


Crystal

by wheel_pen



Series: Loose Gems [9]
Category: The Singing Detective (2003)
Genre: F/M, Slavery, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her master might be abrasive and rude, but that’s what she knows, and she’s determined to keep him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystal

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.   
> Inherent in slavery and other forms of subjugation are dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, and violence.  
> I hope you enjoy this alternate universe, which I own nothing from.
> 
> For visual reference, Crystal is played by Gwyneth Paltrow.

            Dan had a girlfriend.

            Crystal didn't know how she felt about this. But she was reasonably certain she didn't feel _good_. Of course he'd brought women home before, or gone home with them, or otherwise had flings and one-night-stands and messing-arounds, and all of that was really none of Crystal's business, though it was interesting to note that it probably happened a lot _less_ than most people would have thought. Normally Crystal fulfilled all of his needs in that area. And if he occasionally went farther afield, it was only for a single physical encounter.

            But a girlfriend was a different story. She implied some sort of emotional commitment, unlikely as that seemed from Dan. Granted, he and Millie—that was her name—weren't exactly cooing doves, candy hearts, and gold-dipped roses; she was equally quick-witted, cynical, and acerbic, it seemed, and they kept pace with each other in a way that they both appeared to enjoy. As far as Crystal could tell—and she was observing very closely—they never talked about anything serious or meaningful. But surely that was only a matter of time.

            Also only a matter of time? Crystal's departure. What woman wanted her boyfriend to have a bedslave hanging around? Well, _some_ women would make use of Crystal themselves, of course, but Millie didn't seem to be interested in that, and neither was Crystal for that matter, although she always appeared accommodating whenever Dan jokingly suggested it. So Crystal felt that Millie was merely waiting until she felt she had a more secure position in the relationship, and then she would request that Crystal be disposed of—sent away to some other property Dan owned to live alone, permanently "loaned" to a friend, even outright sold. Crystal had lived on the streets for a long time—it had been h—l and she didn't want to go back. And she didn't want to end up with some strange new owner, who might be more agreeable than Dan but who might also just as easily be worse.

            So Crystal's plan was easy: get rid of Millie before _Millie_ could get rid of _her_.

            Not that the "plan" was very elaborate. It was just that Crystal knew Dan better than Millie did, and possibly better than he knew himself. And Crystal was also a keen observer and quite close to the household staff who were also in the position to observe Millie and her interactions with Dan. Not that _they_ saw Millie as the enemy; she wasn't particularly magnanimous to them, but neither was she as rude and arrogant as, well, Dan, for example. But that was alright; Crystal wasn't trying to involve the whole household in a conspiracy. She was just trying to look out for herself. All she had to do, she decided, was make sure Dan realized how much he enjoyed her… and make sure that Millie did not enjoy her at all. So when Millie tried to complain about Crystal to Dan, he would stubbornly refuse to listen to her—not just because he liked Crystal, but also because he hated to do what other people wanted.

            Sometimes the little battles within the plan worked; sometimes they didn't. Crystal always being near at hand irritated the h—l out of Millie, just in itself, so Crystal made sure she sat in whatever room Dan was occupying—not necessarily on the same piece of furniture, because that might have been too much unless of course that was what he wanted, but just in the same room. Preferably, somewhere visible, yet out of the way, such that Millie might cozy up to Dan and try to have a private moment with him, only to suddenly realize that a third person was in the room sewing or reading a book. Because Dan, of course, wasn't bothered by Crystal's presence at all, and sometimes even asked about her if she was absent. However, the victory she gained by momentarily annoying Millie was usually offset when Crystal was finally kicked out of the room so they _could_ have a private moment.

            But Crystal felt she was, slowly, gaining ground. The panty incident, for example. Millie and Dan weren't together _every_ night, and the nights that Millie wasn't around, Crystal did her best to remind Dan why he had bought her in the first place. She was careful not to seem desperate or uncharacteristically forward; he would pick up on that immediately. She was just attentive, and accommodating. One morning it occurred to her to leave the panties she'd worn in the bed, tucked under the blankets just far enough that they'd never be noticed… until someone pulled the sheets back to get into bed. It had taken a few tries to get them in the right spot, but she knew it the moment she had, because Millie had been _quite_ put out. Dan, with his usual lack of tact, had summoned Crystal and given them back with a few smart remarks—while Millie stood behind him, glaring death at Crystal the whole time.

            Crystal made sure to leave them at _every_ opportunity after that—panties, a bra, even a sock, unsexy as socks were. Even non-intimate items of clothing—a sweater or a shawl, for example—could irritate Millie when she found them draped oh so casually around Dan's bedroom or office. Sometimes this behavior was risky, because Dan could be awfully persnickety, and Crystal feared that one day she would go too far and he'd throw a fit about one of her gloves left near his computer—in which case Crystal planned to claim that particular glove wasn't hers, and make sure the matching one was found in Millie's overnight bag. That would be a pretty overt declaration of war, at least in Millie's eyes, so Crystal hoped it didn't get to that point—she wanted to retain the appearance of innocence for as long as possible.

            There were countless little ways Crystal tried to make Millie feel uncomfortable, preferably in some vague, indefinable, unsolvable manner, just to put her a little more on edge whenever she was with Dan. There was always a little extra spice in her soup, a little more seltzer in her drinks (Dan could be an a-s when tipsy, but it was only recognized by those who were more sober), a little less caffeine in her coffee.

            Boldly Crystal had gotten into Millie's closet and altered her dresses—not obviously of course, just taking them in an inch here and letting them out an inch there, just enough that they didn't seem to fit quite right anymore. Crystal knew some tricks with shoes, too, to make them feel a bit too big or too small, to make the straps snap or the heels break in the middle of the evening. She opened the windows in Millie's room, lowering the top ones by just the tiniest crack—small enough that you would have be specifically looking for it to notice it, but large enough to add a draft to the room. Especially when the coals in the fireplace were damp and didn't burn well.

            It was a dirty game, and Crystal didn't take much pleasure in it—it was a matter of survival. And Millie had her own weapons, since she could dazzle him with her wit, presumably charm him in bed. Besides which, she could actually speak her mind to him—an option Crystal simply did not have.

            Crystal looked up from her book as she heard a car door slam just outside the front door, and quickly she began to compose her scene. She really _had_ been sitting on the couch in the parlor reading until the hour Dan and Millie came back from a party, so she wasn't being _completely_ deceptive. And really, she _might_ have fallen asleep there eventually. It was only the part where she leaned her head back against the couch, closed her eyes, and _pretended_ to be asleep already that was actually contrived.

            The door opened, letting in the raucous laughter of Dan and Millie as they skewered the guests at the party they'd just left. Well, Crystal had to agree, Millie _did_ have that talent, which Crystal herself lacked completely. Hmm, they sounded a bit tipsy, and a bit involved with each other; there was a chance Dan might not turn in the right direction—

            "Cryssie!" She didn't stir. "Cryssie!"

            Footsteps in her direction. "Oh, just let her sleep!" said Millie in the background, in a slightly desperate bid to keep Dan from being distracted.

            "Cryssie!" Finally Crystal began to blink her eyes open, wincing at the light and glancing around as if slightly disoriented. "How many times have I told you to just _go to bed_ when you're reading at night?" Dan chastised, although not in a mean way. "Honestly, you could have been down here all night!"

            "Well, it's not like the house is _dangerous_ , Dan!" Millie protested. She would probably prefer that Crystal slept in the pantry or under the stairs anyway, if she had to be under the same roof at all.

            "Oh, sorry," Crystal mumbled sleepily, starting to slowly sit up. "What time is it?"

            "Time for you to go to bed!" Dan announced, scooping her up from the couch. He wasn't exactly gentle, but he seemed reasonably steady on his feet and eager to touch her—Millie found making out at parties and in the car to be 'trashy,' so Dan was probably keyed up from being denied all evening. Crystal wondered if Millie would be altering that standard soon.

            "I'm sure she can walk!" Millie insisted as Dan headed for the stairs. "You might hurt yourself! Your back—"

            Dan didn't _have_ back problems. "Cryssie's a little twig, she hardly weighs anything," Dan shot back, which wasn't really complimentary but Crystal wasn't about to complain. "I _think_ I can carry a little twig around, _thanks_."

            Looking back over Dan's shoulder at Millie and smirking would have been satisfying, but tactically disastrous. So Crystal laid her head on Dan's shoulder and closed her eyes again, as if she really _were_ rather tired. It also kept her from seeing the stairs bob about uncertainly as Dan climbed them. This had the potential to end rather painfully. "Nice time?" she asked, solicitous as always.

            "The Haskells are a-ses," Dan replied shortly. "If I have to hear Arthur Haskell rant about fishery taxes one more time, I'm going to declare myself a vegetarian and devour one of the flower arrangements." Crystal giggled, in a sleepy but appreciative sort of way.

            Millie didn't laugh at Dan's comments unless she thought they were extraordinarily witty, or they were both just on a roll. She was usually too busy trying to think up her _own_ remarks. "Well, at least you know the flower arrangement would be _organic_ ," Millie pointed out, referring to Mrs. Haskell's well-known, much bragged-about gardening hobby.

            Dan chuckled a bit. Crystal yawned. Then she snuggled her head against Dan's neck. "Don't fall asleep," he warned. "You have to change." Crystal had not only 'fallen asleep' on the couch while reading, she had also neglected to change into appropriate nightclothes before doing so. How thoughtless of her. In response Crystal muttered something incoherent.

            Dan delivered Crystal to her bed and set her down on it, at which point Crystal tried to curl up on top of the blankets. "No, no, no, I told you to wake up!" he insisted, a bit rudely, pulling her back into a sitting position. "Come on, now!"

            "Dan, what are you doing?" Millie finally asked, refusing to come any closer than the doorway. Her voice was beginning to whine a bit.

            "Come on, sit up, you little spineless jellyfish," Dan told Crystal.

            "Mmmm, sorry," Crystal replied, as Dan unzipped the back of her dress. She made an effort to focus her vision and reached out to start unbuttoning his dress shirt. "No, not me, _you're_ the one who's getting undressed here!" he laughed, pulling the dress off her shoulders. _Normally_ —as in, in a world without Millie—they would definitely have been undressing each other at this point.

            "I'm sure Crystal can change her own clothes!" Millie suggested pointedly.

            "Well, she _could_ , but where's the fun in _that_?" Dan asked rhetorically. He draped Crystal's dress over a chair and knelt to help her with her shoes. Millie huffed in the background. "Go wait for me in bed," he told her. Millie didn't like to be told to do things, but she liked watching Dan undress another woman less. So she went. Occasionally, she was left waiting a long time in these situations, and Dan wasn't necessarily as eager for her attentions when he finally appeared.

            "Ooh, these sheets are cold," Crystal muttered when she was finally between them, in a frilly nightgown and clean underwear. Dan liked to be thorough.

            He was kneeling on the floor, at eye level to her head that rested on the pillow. "You're a very naughty girl sometimes, Cryssie," he observed, randomly she hoped. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "And you deserve to be punished." For a moment she thought she might be the winner tonight. "But I have to go back to Millie." Guess not. "She's out of town tomorrow night, though. I think we'll have to get out the toy box, don't you?" Well, tomorrow night she would win, anyway.

 

**

 

            "F—k!"

            The young nurse looked up, her face crumpled in consternation. "I'm sorry, I'll try to be more gentle—"

            The look he gave her was absolutely poisonous. "Gentle f-----g torture? How clever," he ground out through tightly gritted teeth. "I know you enjoy this, you sick f-----g—" Crystal left her magazine on the chair and joined him on the hospital bed. "Oh, oh, you again? Yeah, I know you can't get enough of this. That's it, you think you can make it all f-----g better—" He dodged the hand she tried to lay on his sweating forehead, the first time anyway.

            "Just try to relax, Dan," Crystal advised, though she knew he would immediately dismiss her sentiments as—

            "F-----g _useless_ b---h—" He dissolved into largely incoherent swear words, which Crystal felt was probably an improvement.

            "I'm very sorry, sir," the nurse tried to explain as she continued to massage his leg, "but I need to work the ointment into your skin, and—"

            "How stupid do you think I am?" he snapped. Crystal put her hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding through it. "F-----g torment—what do you want to know? Trying to break me? Think you can make me talk?"

            "You're talking quite a bit already," Crystal observed dryly. The nurse didn't really seem to know how to react to Dan's paranoia, though you'd think she'd be used to it by now.

            "I'm sorry," she repeated, this time looking at Crystal.

            "It's okay," Crystal assured her. "Maybe if you just—"

            "F-----g _okay_?!" Dan sputtered furiously. "G-----n f-----g—" He shoved Crystal off the mattress and tried to sit up, swiping one curled hand at the nurse. Not that he was even close to hitting her, but his intent was clear and she jumped backwards.

            "Dan!" Crystal chastised, straightening herself up. Some people liked to blame his foul temper on his illness, but those were obviously people who didn't know him _before_ he was sick. The paranoia and the pain, yes, those were related to his current condition… but everything else was pure, delightful Dan. He was flat on the mattress again, panting from the exertion his movements had caused, and his brown eyes rolled over to meet hers, wide and pleading and slightly hazy. She sighed. "Maybe _I_ could try it, Nurse," she suggested, approaching the other side of the bed.

            Dan barked out a laugh. "I knew it! I knew you couldn't wait to get in on this—" Crystal ignored him.

            "I don't know," the nurse hedged. "I'm not really supposed to—"

            "I've been watching you, I think I could do it," Crystal persuaded her. It wasn't like it was some advanced physiotherapy technique—she was just rubbing the goopy white lotion into his stiff muscles. "Maybe it will keep him calmer." Dan's rant in the background suggested it wouldn't.

            The nurse seemed to be all for keeping him calmer, though. "Well, alright…"

            That was all the invitation Crystal needed. She quickly pulled on a pair of gloves and dipped her hands in the tub of ointment, coming up with a generous helping of the cool substance. "Now try to relax," she instructed Dan again, little good though it would do.

            She didn't think she was doing anything fundamentally different than what the nurse had done. It was just that _she_ was doing it, and Dan wasn't _quite_ so far gone that he didn't realize this was his last, best option. His jaw tensed up like he might break a tooth and his breaths were short and shallow, but at least his complaints were muttered under his breath.

            Mostly. "C'mere, Nursey," he demanded, fixing the young woman with his gaze like a collected bug with a pin.

            "Why?" she asked warily, nonetheless drifting closer. Crystal felt that was ill-advised.

            "I need a bone to break and yours looks the right size!" he growled, lunging for her. She danced out of reach with an unprofessional squeal.

            "Maybe you should go," Crystal suggested calmly. "I'll finish him up."

            The nurse seemed very perturbed by Dan's behavior, as well she should. "Alright," she agreed, much more readily than before. "I'll be back to check on him later."

            "Can't wait!" Dan insisted flatly. She peeled her gloves off and disposed of them, then wasted no time getting out the door. "What?" he snapped at Crystal, who was giving him a look.

            "You really don't have to be so rude," she pointed out, continuing with her task.

            His fingers clenched the sheet as best they could while he braced himself. "I do, I really f‑‑‑‑‑g do. It makes me feel _so_ much better, you wouldn't believe it."

            "The nurse _is_ very pretty," Crystal teased, hoping to distract him from the pain.

            "Oh, G-d, she _is_ ," he sighed. "She tortures me four times a week, every week, and I still want to f—k her. How sick is that?"

            "That's pretty sick," Crystal agreed. "Alright, there's one leg done."

            "Stop there."

            "Sorry, everything below the waist today," Crystal countered cheerfully.

            "I hate you."

            "I know."

            "It f-----g _stings_ , it _burns_ ," he complained, as he often did. "What are you smearing on me, battery acid? Ow!"

            "A simple _ow_ ," Crystal marveled dryly. "I didn't know you had that in you."

            "F—k you. What's for lunch? I want my f-----g yogurt."

            "No yogurt until tomorrow," Crystal reminded him. "You already had lunch today. And dinner."

            Dan narrowed his eyes, clearly assessing her trustworthiness. This news came as a surprise to him, she could tell. And a disappointment as well. "What did I _have_ for dinner?"

            "Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and red jello."

            "I'm glad I don't remember that," he decided after a moment. "Did I throw any of it up later?"

            "Not as yet," Crystal revealed. "But we can always hope, right? There, that's the other leg done."

            "Stop there."

            She was somewhat tempted. But she knew he would rather have her do it than the nurse, and it needed to be done. "Unfortunately, not quite done." She started unsnapping the underwear he wore, a task which was made a bit difficult by her greasy gloves.

            "Stop there, stop there, stop there," he tried, though his tone said he knew the effort was futile.

            "The therapist said you should try to think of something nice when you're unhappy," Crystal reminded him.

            "Something nice… Like beheading that shrimpy quack who calls himself a therapist?" Dan suggested.

            "I had something else in mind," Crystal admitted. "Can you lift your hips a little bit? There, that's fine. I was thinking maybe something about us."

            "Us?" he spat.

            "Where should we be?" she mused, continuing to work. "Maybe in a Cadillac. A red Cadillac."

            "Pink," he corrected suddenly.

            "A pink Cadillac then," she agreed. "On a bluff, overlooking the city at night?"

            _A sunny meadow. Under a tree._

            _With a Cadillac? In the meadow?_

            _Shut up and do your f-----g job. A sunny meadow, under a tree, in a pink Cadillac. Front seat. She's wearing a red dress, red ribbon in her hair, white lace gloves._

            _Gloves? Kinky._

            _Scratchy_. _First we're kissing. Tongues practically down each other's throats. Then her hand starts to move—down my chest. To my belt buckle. Undoes the belt buckle. Unbuttons. Unzips. Her hand in the white lace glove reaches into my pants—_

            His eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip, though not in pain this time. Not entirely anyway. She wondered suddenly if she should have closed the blinds on the window that faced the hallway, but it seemed like an inopportune time now. Besides, no one ever looked in on him. Not too many people really cared how he was doing. They probably wouldn't have even if he'd been the sweetest patient in the world. Which he wasn't, not by a long shot.

            And speaking of long shots… She reached over to the box on the nightstand and grabbed a handful of tissues. After a moment he opened his eyes and tried to focus on her. "Feel better?" she asked solicitously, cleaning up.

            "You're sick," he judged. "My heart's going to explode one of these days."

            "That would prove you had one, at least," she remarked, disposing of the tissues and gloves.

            "Cover me back up, I'm freezing," he demanded petulantly, but she thought he seemed slightly less caustic.

            "Alright, alright." She tried to do up the snaps as quickly as she could—not to satisfy his orders, but because he was really starting to shiver. His condition made regulating his body temperature difficult and he often caught a chill when careless nurses or doctors left him uncovered for too long, especially in those drafty examination rooms. Crystal had gotten rather insistent about accompanying him to appointments lately for just that reason (well, among others). "Here's your socks. I'll get your blanket. Is that too heavy?" Even though he was shivering he didn't like piles of blankets pressing down on his skin—too painful.

            "Fr-freezing," he complained, amid curses. "Like f-----g _ice_!"

            "Okay, well, just let me—" He growled when she lifted the blanket again, but she ignored that. She was used to ignoring a lot of things he did. She scooted gingerly onto the mattress next to him and tucked the blanket around both of them, trying to get marginally comfortable.

            " _My_ bed! Get your own!" he tried to insist, but he settled down after he felt how much warmth she was able to add. Her stroking his hair—the one thing that _didn't_ seem to hurt at one point or another—and making soothing noises seemed to help as well. Although you wouldn't know it from his complaints, which he managed to voice until he drifted off into sleep.

 

**

 

            Dan woke suddenly, feeling a stinging, prickling sensation in his legs, like a painful tickle. He was no stranger to such odd, uncomfortable feelings these days, but this one seemed to be gaining in power, almost… _moving_. In a sudden panic he threw the blanket aside and saw, to his horror, that his legs were covered in a black, writhing mass of spiders. Naturally he shouted, waking Crystal with the noise as much as with his flailing arm movements, though his muscles were too stiff to allow him to really reach as far as he wanted to.

            "Spiders! Spiders!" Stupid, really, but it was all he could think of to say.

            Crystal immediately turned the lights up in the hospital room, back to their usual overly-intense, inescapable fluorescent glare. Not that he cared at the moment—the spiders were quickly scuttling up his chest, where at least he could try to bat them away.

            "There's no spiders," Crystal tried to tell him soothingly. She climbed back on the bed, running her fingers through his hair.

            There was no way she couldn't see them. She'd have to be _blind_ not to see them. Unless of course they weren't really there.

            She could see it in his eyes as he realized he had to be hallucinating and tried to will himself to stop. It was always a desperate struggle—he was a man who was used to trusting his own senses, his own mind, using them to make his living in fact, but now he had to put his trust in someone else, in _her_ , when she said what his mind told him wasn't real. She put her hand on his chest, rubbing it lightly, feeling the heartbeat pounding once again. This disease of his was far from relaxing.

            Her hand was in the middle of the spiders' nest, and he watched in a mix of fascination and terror as the black cloud swarmed up her arm, over her shoulder, down her back. She didn't seem to notice. Well, one couldn't simply _ignore_ being attacked by thousands of spiders. Even one as stubborn as Crystal. So they couldn't be real. It was logical and rational, really. More logical and rational than what he was actually seeing, anyway.

            Dan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The sensation of prickling continued, but slowly, so slowly, it dissolved into the tingling that was normal for him at the moment, that he could almost ignore as long as no one was touching him. He opened his eyes and the spiders were gone.

            "Okay?" Crystal asked. She was still sitting on the bed, rubbing his hair, occasionally kissing it. He felt incredibly stupid.

            "Get the blanket back, I'm freezing," he demanded angrily. "And turn the light off."

 

**

 

            Dr. Gibbon was a psychotherapist. A psycho therapist, as Dan thought of him. Not very clever, or even very apt, as Gibbon was more of a nerdy, awkward little man than a psycho. Short, balding, glasses as thick as the proverbial Coke bottle, the man always wore the ugliest socks Dan had ever seen and seemed to constantly be doing something self-conscious and distracting with his hands. Had they met, somehow, at a society party, Dan would have skewered the man so expertly he wouldn't even have felt the stab wound, at least until he read the papers the next day. At the moment, however, in the hospital, Dan felt the man probably had the edge on him in terms of grace and style. Which was extremely depressing in itself.

            Gibbon liked to start each session by sitting somewhere in the room and _staring_ at Dan for a good five minutes without saying a word. At first, of course, it had really bothered Dan and he started swearing and shouting right away. Now he usually got through almost the whole time silently, unnerving though it was, cracking only at the very end. He hoped that one of these days he was going to fall asleep and leave the quack sitting there for an hour until he realized what had happened.

            "Okay, you f----r, I _give_!" Dan admitted after about four and a half minutes. "What do you _want_?!"

            "I was just thinking about your girlfriend," Gibbon said in his odd way, which was probably meant to be cryptic or profound but really just came off as inappropriate.

            "Me too," Dan replied immediately. "I think about her a _lot_. She's really hot, isn't she? And the best thing about her is, she can look anyway I want, and _do_ anything I want, and I don't have to put up with any c—p from her. Because she's _imaginary_. I don't _have_ a girlfriend, Doctor D-ps--t."

            Gibbon, unfortunately, had a remarkable talent for _not_ being offended by Dan. Or even shocked. "Oh, I meant Crystal."

            Dan rolled his eyes with as much disdain as he could muster, which was considerable. "Crystal isn't my _girlfriend_. She's my _slave_."

            "Oh." Gibbon nodded as if this were extremely significant. "I didn't notice the slave collar, I guess."

            "She has a bracelet," Dan told him, feeling as though he was _admitting_ something. "It's trendier, you know," he added snidely.

            "Oh." Gibbon thought this over for an absurdly long time. "How long have you had her?"

            "Why are we talking about Crystal?" Dan demanded. "I’m the patient here."

            "Well, you don't usually like talking about your problems," Gibbon pointed out, which was true. "So I thought we might talk about something more pleasant."

            "What makes you think Crystal is something pleasant?" Dan asked, immediately on guard.

            Gibbon shrugged. "She seems very nice. She's attentive, she's attractive—"

            "What do you mean by that?" Dan snapped.

            "I mean she's attractive," Gibbon repeated unhelpfully. "Isn't that why you bought her, because she's attractive?"

            Dan didn't like the way this conversation was going. He didn't know _why_ , but he didn't like it. "Are you trying to get me to tell you how I met Crystal? Just _ask_ , genius. No need to get tangled up in little games."

            "How you _met_ her?" Gibbon responded evenly. "That's an interesting phrase. Usually people say, 'where I _got_ her.' "

            Dan narrowed his eyes at the doctor, who merely blinked patiently. "Well, she picked my pocket, and I punched her, and while she was lying unconscious in the alley I thought she was pretty good-looking, so I brought her home," he finally spat, in as nasty a tone as he could manage, which was also considerable.

            "That's interesting," Gibbon replied, in a tone of voice that told Dan nothing.

            "Then I had to track down her ward boss and buy her," Dan added, feeling as though the doctor was trying to trap him into something. "She's not unregistered."

            "I didn't think she was," Gibbon assured him, leaving Dan pondering other angles to the questions. "How long ago was that?"

            Dan shrugged as much as he was able. "Ten years."

            Gibbon nodded slowly. "She must have been pretty young."

            "Hey, she was of legal age," Dan countered sharply. "As far as we could tell. I went through all the proper legal channels. If you're looking for some kind of scandal here, Doc, you're out of luck, because the tabloids dug around her years ago." Like a celebrity such as himself would dare turn up with an unregistered or underage slave… well, actually, he probably _would_ have, but he had lawyers who were paid to avoid that kind of problem.

            " _You_ must have been pretty young," Gibbon tried.

            Dan frowned. "Are you just stringing random words together now or what? I had three best-sellers already."

            "She seems very devoted to you."

            Dan rolled his eyes and sighed. "G-d, this is boring. You're usually boring. But today you've outdone yourself."

            "Oh. I thought talking about Crystal would be interesting for you," Gibbon replied innocently. Dan said nothing. Saying nothing seemed to be the only way to 'win,' if momentarily, but saying nothing was also not something Dan was very good at. "I thought I saw that she had a black eye when you first came in—"

            "It was an accident." Dan was speaking even before Gibbon had stopped.

            Gibbon shrugged. "It's perfectly legal to hit your slaves."

            "I _know_ ," Dan assured him, as this was incredibly obvious. "I'm just saying, as it happened, it was an accident." He rubbed one stiff, sore arm with the other stiff, sore arm. "Muscle spasm," he muttered. "Early symptom. She was in the way." There was quiet for a moment. "Why are we talking about Crystal? I don't want to talk about Crystal."

            Gibbon nodded agreeably. "Well, we can go back to talking about your mother…"

            "Oh, G-d," Dan sighed.

 

**

 

            The orderly who tended to wheel Dan around was not the most sympathetic person in the world. Crystal had spent a lot of time smiling at him cheerfully and trying to engage him in conversation, but he seemed to have earphones permanently implanted in his ears and a scowl etched onto his face. "Hi!" she tried anyway, looking up from her magazine when the two men appeared in the room.

            The orderly could hear her. He gave her a brief glance and kind of snorted. Crystal wasn't sure if that was supposed to be some kind of greeting, him scoffing at _her_ greeting, a comment on her status as a slave, or what. Probably he just hated his job and everyone associated with it. Well, rampant, undeserved hatred was something Crystal knew how to deal with by now.

            The orderly pushed the wheelchair over to the side of the bed and transferred Dan to the mattress—not in a dangerous or reckless way, just in a way that said he really didn't care about being more than competent. Considering the comments Dan had about him as he was doing it, Crystal could see why the man was so eager to be on his way.

            "How was therapy today?" she asked as soon as they were alone. She waited until Dan's breathing had calmed a bit before sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and starting to tuck him in. Even with a kind-hearted orderly the movement from the wheelchair to the bed could be painful.

            "Gibbon is such a manipulative little—" Whatever deep insight Dan had into his therapist's mind was cut off suddenly when he opened his eyes and saw Crystal. Or more specifically, saw what she was holding.

            "Danny? Honey?" Crystal prompted.

            Then, to her shock, Dan's face started to crumple, his nose reddened, his chin trembled, his eyes glistened. "You—" he began, then stopped, seemingly too upset to continue.

            She was really worried now. "Danny? Did Dr. Gibbon—"

            "You—how could—" He gestured toward her with one curled hand, unable to point more specifically and clear up her confusion. He sniffled, furious it seemed to her, so furious that he didn't care that he was almost crying. "How could you—"

            "Danny? How could I what?" Crystal knew Gibbon was smarter than he looked and she felt Dan's condition had improved since he'd been seeing the therapist—whatever they discussed had to be personal and painful sometimes, but she'd never seen Dan so upset by it before. "Do you want me to get you something or—"

            "Yogurt!" he finally ground out, flailing his arm at her in frustration.

            Crystal looked down at the small cup of frozen yogurt she held. "Do you _want_ some yogurt, or—"

            "I'm _frozen_ —locked—trapped—in this miserable, buckled, useless f-----g body," Dan began to rant, "while you are running all over this city with your long legs and your long fingers and your normal digestive system and—" Crystal stared at him, unable to predict where he was going with this, but his emotion was obviously genuine given the tears sliding down his cheeks. "—and you're sitting there in your short skirt _eating my f-----g yogurt_!"

            Crystal's mouth dropped open. Eating his--? She closed her mouth and gave him a look, a look that was _not_ apologetic.

            "It's _my_ f-----g yogurt, it's the only g-----n food I can _eat_ in this whole f-----g place and—" Crystal popped a spoonful of the creamy substance directly into his open mouth. He ate it in surprise, finally quiet. "It's strawberry," he said after a moment.

            "Yes, it's strawberry," she agreed. Since entering the hospital Dan had become a bit obsessed with the frozen yogurt served by the cafeteria—the _blueberry_ frozen yogurt. Which had a distinctive purple coloration, quite different from the light pink in her cup. "Yours is in the freezer, waiting for you."

            "Oh." He raised his sleeves awkwardly to his face and tried to wipe the moisture away. In a moment she would get a tissue and do it for him. But first she had to task him a bit.

            "Did you really think I would eat _your_ yogurt?" she asked, slightly hurt by his assumption. "That I would sit here and eat it in front of you? Did you really think that, Danny?"

            "Well, I didn't think at _all_ , did I?" he snapped, snuffling. Now that the moment was over he was vaguely disgusted by the display of emotion, although probably not sorry about the actual remark. "Would you get me a f-----g tissue?!" Crystal sighed and pulled one from the box on the bedside table, batting his hands away so she could dab at his face for him. "I'm just—I'm so f‑‑‑‑‑g paranoid…" he muttered, not meeting her eyes. Crystal figured that was about as close to an apology as she was likely to get.


End file.
